Retro rolling trailers bring back a golden age of car camping

WILLIAMSBURG — As is the case with many like-minded Americans, Larry Hill turned to the Internet and discovered the aluminum box of his dreams.

"Welcome to the world of eBay," said Hill, a retired environmental contractor from Goldsboro, N.C. Smiling, he reclined under a canvas awning attached to his 1960 Shasta-brand camper trailer. "There, you can find anything you're looking for," he said.

After buying the camper for $1,200 from an owner in Tennessee, he lavished it with love, elbow grease and dollars. He meticulously restored the camper's wood-paneled interior, installed a new, stone countertop and painted the exterior a rich burgundy hue to match another of his pet projects, a pristine-looking 1959 El Camino.

The dynamic duo of old camper and old car attracted lots of attention at the first-ever Virginia Vintage Rally, a recent gathering of antique camper trailer enthusiasts held at the Williamsburg KOA campground. The event was sanctioned by Tin Can Tourists, a national club for men and women dedicated to preserving recreational trailers made 1930-1970.

"The colors are lovely," said a woman touring Hill's trailer and about nine others that were part of the Williamsburg rally. "The wood is wonderful, you've done a great job," another told him.

How much did Hill spend on the restoration?

"Everyone will lie," said Hill, smiling again. "You put more in than you will ever get back out. But the enjoyment of it, that's what it's all about."

"With these things, it's not so much money as time, but it becomes a labor of love."

Part of the satisfaction antique camper owners find is rooted in nostalgia.

Vintage aluminum Airstream- and Spartan-brand trailers bring back pleasant memories for baby-boomers who vacationed in them in the 1950s and 1960s. The smaller Shastas and Scottys, affectionately described as "canned ham" models, also can produce a wave of warm feelings.

"There is nostalgia for the '50s era," said Forrest Bone, leader of the national Tin Can Tourists group, reached by telephone. "But it's also simplifying. If you're camping, you don't need 40-foot-motor home, with TVs and all that."

Bone didn't attend the Williamsburg rally, but he was familiar with the details of it. An expanding number of Tin Can Tourist gatherings are happening across the nation and in Canada. Activity in the antique camper sector has grown steadily since Bone and his wife, Jeri, revived Tin Can Tourists in 1998. The original group, founded in 1919 in the midst of America's first car camping boom, had faded away by the 1980s.

The reborn Tin Can Tourists held its first rally in Milford, Mich., in 1998 and attracted 21 trailers, Bone said. When the club holds its largest annual gathering May 19-22, also in Milford, organizers expect to see 161 trailers. The group now boasts some 1,000 members nationwide.

One of those members is Dave Zastrow of Washington, D.C. He and his wife own a 36-foot-long, shiny aluminum Spartan Imperial Mansion. They've been gradually restoring it over the last few years and now have it fixed up enough to bring to events like the rally in Williamsburg.

"Fun? That might not be exactly how I would describe the experience," said Zastrow, a retired audio-visual specialist. "Rewarding would probably be the right word. Working on this thing has been frustrating and at time terrifying … But I'm constantly amazed at the engineering and ingenuity that went into these things. With this one, the workmanship is incredible."

Zastrow said that Spartan, originally an aircraft manufacturer, redirected resources toward making trailers after World War II, encouraged by a post-war housing shortage. Consequently, the engineering used to design and build Spartan camper trailers was first rate.

"So many of the features still work," Zastrow said, "For instance, the exhaust fan in the bathroom."

His wife chimed in. "It has a fantastic shower," said Kristin Zastrow.

But for some antique trailer enthusiasts, the lack of cushy features is part of the charm of older campers.

Modern recreational vehicles threaten to take the outdoors out of camping, some said. Oliver Mueller, a graduate student at the College of William and Mary, said smaller antique campers encourage their owners to cook and socialize al fresco. "That's better than sitting in fiberglass boxes watching DVDs," Mueller said.

Going retro can also be economical, enthusiasts said.

"A new rig like that would cost $40,000 at least," Hill said, pointing to a modern RV parked nearby. "With an old camper, you could get something for $1,500, slap a coat of paint on it, polish the wood and you're good to go."

Find out more

To learn more about the group Tin Can Tourists, visit tincantourists.com